Pat Around the Americas

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Monday, 11 February 2013

I´ve noted that many tales from the road seem
to end abruptly when the physical journey is done...and that makes a lot of sense, but I am often
left wondering about the aftermath.What
happened to that particular character?How
did the protagonist feel about their achievements some months down the road of
life?How did they get back into the day
to day swing of things, or did they simply turn around and head off somewhere
new?

And, indeed, I don´t necessarily feel that my
own “...journey in search of direction...”
ground to a halt with my arrival
back home in sunny Barcelona. I have
been thinking about what I have done, why I did it... why
did I do it? ... and what effect
it has had on me, and how I will take that with me through the rest of my life. Before I headed off, I was told by some who
have been and done that the journey would change my life... I must confess I scoffed a little (inside) at
such statements. I am reminded now, as I
reflect, how right they were.

Perhaps I have been thinking too much. Perhaps I should simply park the memories in
that corner of my mind, for revisiting on cold and damp days. Perhaps I should be setting my sights forward
for further adventures. But, I´m sorry to
report, that is not necessarily me. I
am, therefore, driven to wrap up this section of my trip tales with an
epilogue, where I explore the impact of such a mammoth journey and how I have
managed to return to earth without too much of a bump. I hope you will stay with me through this
final leg.

So where do I start? So many thoughts running around my mind on
return home, the first of which fuelled by a small degree of fear, as reported
in the final trip episode. Why on earth
I felt that way was a mystery. Mrs Pat had
done nothing but pour love and support in my direction from the outset of this
project. But it was nevertheless there,
and I should acknowledge that. Despite
the wonders of Skype and mobile technology, it remains the case that we both
spent quite some time out of contact, and out of the habit of sharing our daily
woes. When you decide to spend a life
together, not spending it together becomes alien, and I think it was that which
tossed tinder into the flames of my unsettled emotions. Each traveller on return will undoubtedly
feel different – we are all different people after all – but I am pleased to
report that my worries were well and truly unfounded.

They say that absence makes the heart grow
fonder... don´t you just hate such clichés? Even more so perhaps when they prove to be
true. My time away made me realise with
crystal blue clarity what I have at home, and I record that lesson here lest it
be lost. After close to 20 years
together it is easy enough to accept your life partner, for better and for
worse, but perhaps also without much real thought. This trip has given me the opportunity to
revisit who we are and why we (usually) work well together, and what I value
most. It has also given me the time and
perspective I was looking for to put my own head in order. I feel I have done that, and I feel a greater
closeness and understanding at home...
something I value more than the chance to see more of this wild and
wonderful world... but only just!

I also find myself being more reflective and
thoughtful of late, and measuring my life and opportunities I have seized, and
wasted, against those available (or not) to the people I met on that long
journey north. I often say I am a lucky
guy, but perhaps it is only when you open yourself up to others can you really
sense the truth in that. Travelling
alone across continents for months on end forced that process in me, and I very
much hope I do not lose that perspective as life and the daily grind takes hold
again. What we have far outweighs what
we have lost. A message I plan to keep
close to my heart.

And, equally, what we do does not necessarily
have to revolve around our own needs and desires. The generous giving I experienced from people
with comparatively little has, since my return, impacted on my being more
greatly than I had envisaged. If they,
without so much as a thought, can readily offer their time, energy and
resources – then surely I can do more.
People, on seeing that I was alone (and at times I was feeling it
strongly) readily shared their time with no desire other than to lift spirits
and help me feel more at ease in their world.
Powerful stuff indeed. I can now see that the feeling I felt when in
receipt of selfless acts can be imparted to others, and that I personally
should do more...and that I will do
more.We are already discussing how we
can make a difference and translate these reflections into more concrete
measures, if only on a small scale.A
new journey in life awaits.A man once
said, “do the little things”, wise words indeed.

Talking about journeys, Idris had a much
longer one than I, though it did indeed arrive back in the UK safe and sound. My thanks to James Cargo for their support
and service. Though having to wait some
2 months for the return of the bike was more of a struggle for me than I had
anticipated. I missed the two wheeled
freedom within weeks of my return to Europe.
This was eased somewhat with spending many weeks in the UK catching up
with family, friends and (yep) work. I
wasn´t going to miss, for example, the Adventure Bike Rider Midlands Rally
weekend, even if I had to hitchhike.
Though, despite the very generous offer of some wheels for the weekend,
it did seem rather odd chatting to old friends and new about the trip when the
trusty steed in question was still in a box heading around the world... the
wrong way!

Needless to say that on Idris´ arrival back
in the UK, I took the opportunity to ride out to see friends again, before
heading down through France and home, where Idris will remain until warmer
weather returns to the north of the continent.
There are, after all, many roads in Spain left to travel – and I hope to
be doing as many as I can over the months to come.

The committed few who have followed these
ramblings over the last year or so will recall that I had a few falls, most
notably one in Argentina that left me in pain for some time. I´m happy to report that I am relatively
pain-free now, though I felt the need to get checked out properly on arrival
back in the land of the paella. In case
you are wondering, my clicking knee is nothing more than that, and with a bit
of regular exercise should hold its own for many years to come. My back, which was more of a worry, is now
displaying a herniated disk – which looked a lot worse on the MRI than it
feels.

I am reliably informed by competent
specialists that the physiotherapy that I am undertaking will be sufficient to
strengthen the muscles in the area and take the load off the spine. In short, a few minor worries that may limit
my trail riding in the short term but, overall, a small price to pay for the
experiences and wonder I drunk in through this amazing journey. Idris also requires a bit of TLC, which it is
now getting in readiness for more adventures to come.

Sunday, 30 December 2012

Rolling into
Bellingham on a misty early morning, rested and refreshed from a wonderful 4
days on the Alaska Marine Highway, really did feel like the end of a long
journey. Idris and I only had the
relatively short run down to Seattle together before I handed it over to the
transport agents. Seattle was the end of
the road, but first there was Bellingham, and the promise of a farewell
breakfast with Michael. The lack of phone and
WiFi connections on the boat meant that we needed to hook up with the world
again at our earliest convenience... not least to check that the arrangements
put in place before I left Haines to get Idris and myself home had not fallen
apart in the intervening days.This also
meant that once disembarked Michael and I were looking for a local fast food
joint that would offer an early breakfast and a ready supply of free internet.

Before ending up
under the golden arches of the big M, we managed to get a nice little tour of
the town, which I have to say looked the sort of place I should have spent more
time in. But as so often was the case on
this journey, I was soon saying goodbye to Bellingham, and Michael for that
matter, and hitting the motorway south for the final stretch of road.

The landscape was
hilly, very green and quite charming... at least what you could gather from the
multi-lane freeway and increasing levels of traffic that were reaching out to
greet us each mile south we covered. A
while before hitting the outskirts of Seattle, the road ground to a halt. Sheer weight of traffic was the only cause...
a mix of grid-lock and slow moving three lane madness. I hadn´t experienced this level of gas
burning asphalt since Buenos Aires oh so long ago.

It felt alien, it
felt wrong. Perhaps it was me. Had I spent too much of the trip avoiding
populated areas, favouring the countryside and missing the countries
themselves? I was struck by the sheer
volume of vehicles alongside, in front, and behind that were being employed
transporting just a single person. OK, I
recognise the irony in that. Idris was
doing the same. But Idris had returned
an impressive average 72 mpg on this journey, and I couldn’t help but think
there was unlikely to be any other vehicle on this road this day that could
match Idris´ incredible economy and low emissions.

But the traffic did
flow, eventually, and before I knew it, or at least before midday, I was
rolling my trusty steed into the transport agent´s compound. Idris was due to be collected from here the
following week, taken by road down to LA, and then popped on a boat back to the
UK. KGM made the farewells easy, and
before I knew it I was jumping into a taxi and heading for an airport hotel with
my roll-bag full of the gear I needed to stick on the plane with me.

My flight to
Barcelona, via Philadelphia, was leaving the next day, so I had an afternoon to
kill. Seattle beckoned, and the easy
airport light rail link facilitated the run into the city centre. Years of watching episodes of Frasier had
prepared me for what I was likely to expect in terms of the fixed sights to
see, but it in no way prepared me for how I would feel walking again in a busy,
bustling city. Indeed, if it wasn´t for
the people I might well have enjoyed wandering around the waterfront area, with
its regenerated markets and craft shops – even sight of the original Starbucks
– it seemed a bit like Sydney harbour!

But there were
people, and lots of them. It was a
Saturday afternoon and there was some sort of festival taking place that
evening. It wasn´t long before I started
feeling uncomfortable. This was
strange. Was I going to feel so alien in
all situations I found myself from now on?
Had I been affected so much during this trip? But with questions unanswered, the fact
remained that I was experiencing a touch of anxiety – I needed to get off the
street and find space to relax. Not
knowing my surrounds, I opted for the cinema.
The Dark Knight was an inviting option, though due to the recent
shootings in Montana, having to pass through security to watch a film was, yet
another, odd experience.

However, the American
Airlines flights the next day were fine.
The service good, the food passable, and schedule maintained... what
more do you want from a long-haul airline.
Even the short layover in Philadelphia was pain free. And the following morning I was landing in a
sunny Barcelona airport. My physical
journey was over... but somehow I felt
that my mental one still had some way to go.

Thoughts for the day

Time on the Alaska
Marine Highway and on the flight home gave the opportunity to ponder what I had
seen and experienced on the journey... and what that meant to me. It also allowed me time to think about life
at home, and those doubts about how I would be received after 131 days away
could not help but creep into my consciousness.
I had already been unsettled by big city life, how easily would I be
able to adjust to domestic life again. I
was secure in my feelings for my wife and family, but was that enough – and
would they be so secure in theirs in return.
It is curious how these questions linger on a long journey, and build
space in your mind as that journey nears its end, no matter how well or unfounded.

My return home was to
an empty house – but that was expected.
People have to work, and not all can get the sort of time off necessary
to do a trip like this. But walking
through my front door to the sight of a welcome home and congratulatory signs
lifted a weight of worry off my shoulders that I hadn’t realised had settled
there until that moment. I literally
breathed a sigh of relief and all was well with the world. Conversations with Mrs Pat that day, and the
reunion later was wonderful, and not for recording here. Other thoughts from the journey are, however.

The trip had changed
me... I really did feel different. I was
calmer for one thing, more relaxed and at ease with people and the world in
general. I seemed to have shrugged off,
to a degree, that fear (or is it suspicion) that many of us in western society
harbour about strangers. Time on the
road alone has resulted in me often seeking out company, being the first to
initiate contact, putting myself in positions of vulnerability. It was often an exercise born out of
necessity... we are social animals after
all, and crave company. But that process
was an education in itself, and an education it would be remiss to not openly
recognise.

Most people are not
out to cause us harm, most people don´t have a hidden agenda, most people are
actually pretty decent and only willing to help, or just chat. I didn´t meet a single idiot on the whole
trip. 131 days on the road and not one
person caused me grief or cause for concern.
Why is it then that the western media keeps telling me that all these
people I met should have been out to do me harm? Why is it that they say that I should be
afraid to travel through the countries I visited? Perhaps I was just lucky, my wife does say I
am the luckiest guy around, but I prefer to think it is something more than
that.

Media is business –
and fear and violence sells. It is
nothing more than that; simple economics.
If you want to learn about the world, you need to go beyond the
headlines on a global news channel. The
world is a glorious mix of people and places – with each having its own story
to tell. And there really are stories
out there worthy of being read or experienced first-hand. But these are not often covered by the
business of mass media.

The stories I heard
were about pride and love. They were
about countries and peoples striving for betterment, when they were limited in real
resources to help them achieve such goals.
The stories from Pat Around the Americas were about generosity and
desires to do the right thing at the individual level, even though there was
little to offer. And when there was
little to offer, people gave their time; a commodity so difficult to come by in
our daily lives.

On my boat and plane
journey home, I decided to report my experiences so that others might be
inspired to look beyond the headline and reach out to a world interested in
receiving their embrace. I decided to
dedicate some of my time to putting my full story into words, building on the
headlines recorded in this blog. And I
decided to seek further public support through those words for Unicef´s work
with children around the globe.

So in addition to the
fundraising through this blog, I´ll be writing a book about the trip with all
my proceeds going to Unicef. I have
already been enriched beyond measure from the journey; I am not making any money from this experience. But I
do want to do more to help the children I saw along the way. They are the futures of these countries – and
futures that can only be fully realised through greater health and education
services. Unicef can help with that. And we can help Unicef.

If you have enjoyed following my travels in these postings, please feel free to become part of the journey yourself. The links on the top right of this page will take you to more information on Unicef´s excellent work - and my just giving page, where you can send a contribution direct to Unicef. Go on - start 2013 by helping kids who are not getting the life chances we had.

On the trip, I also resolved to
give more of my time to do (as St David said) the little things – I can´t think
of a better legacy from Pat Around the Americas.

Monday, 10 December 2012

Having dined royally
the night before on one of the finest rib-eye steaks I have ever eaten, I
decided on an equally royal lay-in and leisurely breakfast at my hotel in
Haines, Alaska. There was no longer any
need for the tenseness and clockwatching that I had been (generally) carrying
with me since handing over hundreds of dollars for my ferry south and flight
home. I had arrived at the ferry port in
Haines with time to spend much of the day enjoying the town and local area.

So having feasted
well again at a sumptuous breakfast (a rare treat for me on this journey), I
had Idris packed and ready to go by a somewhat tardy midday! Still, the sky was clear(ish) and the scenes
impressive from this little American outpost.
Haines had been largely ruled by the US army training post which now
forms part of the town, having been decommissioned and sold off following the
Second World War. In fact, my hotel was
located within the old barracks, overlooking the old parade ground (now a
lovely village-type green), and alongside other impressive old buildings on
‘officers row’.

Having picked up some
hand crafted gifts for the lovely Mrs Pat – and there is a very good selection
in the town - I spent some time chatting to locals about life in the high
north. It seems that the fiord-like vistas,
nature and impressive cleanliness has encouraged an influx of semi-residents
from more southerly states. I can
certainly see the attraction here, and also understand the rationale behind
heading a little further south when the harsh winter sets in. But I did note a degree of tension from those
who have to try and scratch out a living in the Haines area on a more permanent
basis.

The income from
tourism in the summer months is a vital source of revenue for those not able or
unwilling to maintain homes in the south.
And I sensed a degree of frustration with the lobbying against cruise
ships visiting the small port (the number having already dropped in recent
times). The town once served the
military post; without a replacement in the form of tourists it is hard to see
how the locals can continue to maintain homes here. But I hope they do. Haines has an old-world charm wrapped in a
veil of outstanding natural beauty that deserves to be admired. Finding that balance that delivers a
sustainable future for the port, and its residents, is a must.

But I digress, the
fact is that while I was chatting to the locals I also heard about the lakes a
little further up the estuary where salmon run by the thousands, where bear
roam and feed, and where eagles soar.
With a ‘trailer’ such as this I could hardly sit around town drinking
coffee all afternoon – despite the good company. The short run out of town would also enable
me to check out the ferry terminal for later in the day (this had recently
moved some 5 miles out of town!).

If you are ever in
the area and have time before your boat, take a while to ride this run. Not only was I experiencing more of those
wonderfully curvy roads that hug both the rocky / tree-lined fiords and the
mirroring water, but the treat that awaits you at the end of the road will have
your camera snapping away in all directions.
Unless there are bears that is!

A couple of miles
beyond the ferry terminal the estuarial waters that take the boats out to sea
run out where a small but picturesque river begins. But only a short dirt track further on that
little river also disappears into a wondrous lake. I had hoped to spend some time there. There are spots (apparently) where you can
look down on the migrating salmon so numerous that no human eye could keep
count. But on my arrival on the track I
saw my route ahead blocked by big furry beasties. Deciding to adopt the pythonesque ‘run away’
form of valour, I turned Idris while I still could do so easily and scooted
away from the bears without so much as a glance back. Beautiful to see, but there is a wildness
about them that unnerves me, particularly when you come across them unexpectedly
in this vast landscape! Brave, brave Sir
Robin... sorry!

I did have a great
ride back though, and stopped off at the terminal to check everything was on
course and to chat to the numerous bikers that were now starting to gather
(albeit some only for the short ferry hop over to Skagway). And what a diverse bunch we are... a mix of Harleys, of course, but also
Goldwings, father and son on KLRs, various GSs and a fantastic Ural Combo
transporting midlife newlyweds - nice!
There was also a somewhat grubby red XT660Z which sparked much comment
from the waiting two-wheelers, and much fun was had chatting away the hours,
while also admiring the odd eagle fly overhead (I failed to capture one on camera,
despite many attempts).

Loading, when it was
eventually time, was a simple but drawn out affair. But on arrival up on the open deck I was well
pleased to note that Michael (see previous episode) had already secured me a
spot where I would be spending the next four days and nights. A small boat, but it had most of what was
needed, and having pitched camp on the deck and sorted my gear, we settled in
for an evening of coffee and chatting with neighbours.

For those that are
wondering, there are cabins on board but not as many as you would think - also
at $850 one way just for bike and passenger, the cost was already more than
sufficient for this ABR. But, unusually,
you can actually pitch your tent on the open area of the deck (it does get a
bit windy though) or, like us, sleep on the plastic ‘deck chairs’ that fully
recline in the covered solarium area – which also sports ceiling heaters at
night. With sleeping mat and bag laid
out, I had 4 excellent sleeps and fantastic views.

You do wake early
each day though. You can´t really help
it, with the sun rising and shining through the roof. But you would not want to miss those sunrise
scenes; they really are part of the whole experience on Alaska´s Marine Highway
to Bellingham, Washington. The boat
stops a number of times on the way south, and at some of them you are allowed
to get off and wander the local towns for a while. I didn´t.
Having everything I needed, including a ready supply of books from the
onboard shop and book exchange scheme (opposite the purser´s desk), I settled
in for some of the laziest 4 days I have experienced.

And what an
experience! Firstly to be blessed by
being surrounded by interesting people...
and let´s face it, four days on a small boat with no phone signal or
WiFi, you are going to end up speaking to lots of people whether you like it or
not! I am grateful to Michael, Tom,
Erica, Larry and the two Johns for your company. It seems that most people who venture up to
Alaska are possessed with an adventurous spirit. So it was great to be able to swap stories
or, when you felt the need, simply to kick back and enjoy the views.

And that brings me
neatly to my second point. This area of
the world is simply breathtaking. The
ferry route finds its way through often narrow gaps between mainland and the
mess of islands that simply litter the coastline. There was only one moment I recall from the
whole journey when we were able to see open sea. Consequently the water was as calm and clear
as an alpine lake. And in those early
hours, or late ones for that matter, especially when the mists rolled through,
it was simply magical.

Not wishing to sum up
the journey with just two main points, I would be seriously remiss if I did not
add the third; that being the wildlife.
OK, we couldn´t see bears or moose, nor was there that much flying
around above. But what appeared from the
watery depths from time to time will stay with me for years... whales, orca, and sea otters. I´ve seen TV programmes where people have
come over all emotional on sighting whales in the wild. I was a little more reserved... cough, cough... but it is true, these animals really do
strike a chord when you see them in their natural environment, doing what comes
naturally. The lovely Erica was able to
capture some truly impressive shots – I wasn´t, so you´ll have to suffer my
feeble efforts I´m afraid.

And, unless you have
already experienced this journey for yourself, take my word... travelling Alaska´s
Marine Highway is one of the must do trips.

Monday, 3 December 2012

I welcomed in my 120th
day on the road with a leisurely stroll out of the bar in McCarthy, Alaska,
across the river footbridge and down to my chosen hostel for the night. I had really enjoyed my evening at the bar;
good food, good drink, and good company is always the best recipe. Surprisingly lively given the size of the
town, the bar sported a mix of locals, seasonal workers (who seemed the most up
for a relaxed party), and tourists. I
guess I fell into the latter category but I did, in fact, feel rather at
home. A strange place McCarthy, but one
that was capable of very quickly getting under your skin; I could spend some
real time here.

And it was also a
strange walk back to my bed too.
Although in the wee hours, there was still plenty of light to see the
way, and even try to take a few artistic photos (such are the effects of a good
drink – I suddenly found myself thinking I knew what I was doing with a camera
– oh how I laughed the following morning).
I was sharing a bunkroom with Tomas, a Czech chap who was in town for
the wondrous wandering that an Alaskan summer can offer – doing his own thing
but on two feet, not two wheels. I hope
I didn´t disturb him.

Indeed it was on two
feet that I spent much of the next day exploring the town, its history, and its
people (past and present). One of the
tiniest of places, having shrunk back into near nothingness following the
closure of the copper mines so many years back, it was curiously difficult to
wander down the dirt covered main street; I think it took me over an hour in
all to make that walk. I have rarely
been in a place that was so friendly, open and where people seemed to have such
a genuine interest in your story. I
can´t recall how many times I was stopped and engaged in conversation, most
definitely more often than I am in my home town. Was the word out that there was another
McCarthy in town, and that he was humbly following the footsteps of the late,
great writer Pete McCarthy? I don´t
think so... I´d like to think that
everyone encounters the same experience on arrival here.

But time eventually
ran out, and I had to make the walk back out of town, over the footbridge (bikes
and quads can cross it – but not cars) to the car park at the end of the
McCarthy road, ready to be collected and transported back to Idris in
Chitina. I was sad to say goodbye to
McCarthy – and realistically it was truly a goodbye. I was unlikely to journey this way
again. While I was already planning a
return to Alaska and the Yukon – I was simply having to leave too many things
undone here – but that would likely be a couple of weeks on a hire bike
focussed on places yet to see, rather than things already done. But who knows... never say never I guess.

The journey along the
McCarthy Road by minibus took around 3 hours, and it was well into the evening
by the time my cramped legs stretched down onto Idris´ all too familiar
footpegs. It was nice to be reunited,
even for the short run to find a bed for the night. But the journey along the McCarthy Road was
not without its highlights. There were
still some parts of the original rail bridges available to view, and a
reasonable dash of impressive wildlife too, including a most grand lady moose.

My views on the road
itself mirrored those of my KLR friend of a few days before. A whole lot of loose gravel, huge amounts of
dust, and lots of road works – plus punctures galore. We passed a few 4 wheelers doing the required
tyre changes, plus our own vehicle had had a puncture earlier that day on its
way out. While the driver insisted this
was nevertheless the best condition he had seen the road for years (as now the
potholes and washouts had been more or less filled), I would imagine that next
year (2013) would be a far better time to tackle the road on two wheels – once
a summer´s worth of traffic and a winter´s worth of snow and ice had compacted down
this relative gravel pit.

The next morning saw me
rise and on the road in good time for the trouble free and pleasant ride back
up to Tok. Which we simply rode past
this time as we headed east down a stretch of the Alaskan Highway that was both
new to us, having arrived in Alaska via a more northerly route, and in fact new
to everyone in places. There were quite
a lot of long patches of road works right through to the border with Canada and
beyond, leaving a real mix (again) of road surfaces to navigate. I guess they only get a short window each
year to make the necessary repairs.

Pitching up at a
roadside motel just before the border, I decided to stop for the day. I had made pretty good time, and the place
looked clean and well run. It also
turned out to be reasonably priced (for Alaska) and friendly too. Having settled in and had my meal for the
day, I spent the late afternoon and evening sat on the porch chatting with
travellers as they made their way through (it was also a fuel stop). It was here I met Michael from Ireland (originally)
and for the second half of his life, from Sydney. He was on his own round the world experience
(GS800) starting the Americas section at the top and heading down. Hopefully this blog will prove of some use to
him as he heads south. We also found that
we were booked on the same ferry to Bellingham, Seattle in a few days, so
plenty of time to catch up then. We also
spent a while chatting to Ignacio from the Canary Islands in Spain (Fazer), who
seemed quite buzzed to be able to chew the fat with someone in Spanish for a
while. Happy to oblige and buen viaje
tio!

The Alaskan Highway
on the Canadian side got a bit bumpy. It
was not so much pot holes that were causing the issue, but the regular and
often deep undulations that had my heart racing and wheels airborne at
times. I resigned myself to a slower and
more steady pace, not least as the compressive effect of bouncing up and down
on Idris´ well worked suspension was causing my long forgotten South American
back issue to flare up. Better get that
checked out when I get home... just in case.
The wind was also starting to pick up...
curious that this becomes more of a factor at the more extreme ends of
the earth.

This slower speed,
coupled with one stupid driver who insisted in driving right on my tail for
miles irrespective of the poor and changing road surface and local wildlife
which seemed to prefer the tarmac, meant that I started leaving all waiting
traffic pass me by at each enforced stop for road works. This happily left me with more time to chat
away to the people working the road stop signs.
It was at one of these signs, before a 2 km stretch of dirt road, that
the young chap shared a story of a bear and a bike.

Some two weeks earlier, during the wet
weather that had been plaguing the area throughout June, a solo rider on a
GS1200 had passed through the road works riding relatively slowly due to the
poor (dirt) road conditions, when a large grizzly leaped from the roadside and
paw-swiped him from his machine. Rider
and bike went down pretty hard. The bear
went down even harder, as the construction crew on seeing the incident drew
their weapons and killed the freaked animal lest it go for the injured
ABR. It was reported that the bike was a
wreck, but the rider survived with a few bumps and bruises only. I was waved on with a warning to watch the
roadsides, just in case. And this
thought gave rise to another as the question came to mind: Do bears, you know, do their business in the
woods? It seems, from my Alaskan Highway
experience, that they don´t – but in fact undertake the majority of their
ablutions at the side of the road! This
did nothing more than reinforce my view that I should not stay long in the land
of the bear... well, at least not
without a rapid means of escape. I must
confess, they still scare me.

But as thoughts
wandered in and out of my busy mind, miles rolled by, and it wasn´t long before
I was struggling to a halt around Destination Bay (which seemed more like a
lake to me, but what do I know). That
northerly wind had continued to rise in strength, and after crossing the plains
of a wide river valley a few times, my muscles were starting to feel the
strain. As I pulled into the fuel stop,
filled up and rolled on to a more sheltered parking spot, I noted that I was
not the only two wheeler feeling the same.
Bikes were rolling in and parking up every few minutes, including a
lovely German couple (GS800s) on their round the world epic, who spent much
time complaining about the quality of BMW dealership mechanics. It seems that after over 18 months on the
road so far, the only mechanical issues they had encountered were the result of
sloppy workmanship by BMW. Needless to
say, they were now doing all their own maintenance. And then Michael rolled in too – so much coffee
was drunk and chatting undertaken, before we decided that the wind had eased
sufficiently to move on.

I left Michael find
his own pace, and settled back into my mile munching rhythm. It was not long
before Haines Junction came into sight, and after consulting a local about
alternative overnight stops, I decided to pitch up at a friendly motel with a
Chinese restaurant. Sat outside supping
a local beer it was curious to see the sky showing the hazy reddish signs of
the wildfire raging in Siberia!

I awoke and packed
really early for the run down to Haines – along the famed Haines Highway – a
National Scenic Highway (I wasn´t exactly sure what that meant, but it sounded
impressive).

A number of ABRs I had met along
my travels from as far south as Argentina had highlighted this road as
something to be done. But I was
strangely nervous as I headed out of town for the first 10 miles or so of dirt
road (roadworks again). This would be
the last ´real´ road I would be riding as part of this adventure. I was getting those end of the journey jitters,
worrying about doing something silly and missing the boat, then missing my
flight, then missing my wedding anniversary – something I promised both my long
suffering wife, and myself, that I would not do no matter what.

But as the road
rolled by, and the scenery opened up, I lost track of all my worries. This road had started with dirt, but was now
paved with the most wonderful of blackstuff.
Quick and rolling bends brought us each time to new vistas that took the
breath away. Each turn of the head, as
we rose steadily towards the mountain pass, what like a photo shot. You could spend days here capturing the
wonder of snow capped mountains, green grass and tree filled valleys, bubbling
mountain streams bursting over polished rock, with herds of horses prancing
behind. Amazing. Then glaciers.Then jagged, ragged rocks jutting in to the
sky.Then more open plains setting out
the winding road before us.

And then a
grizzly bear...what!Yep, a grizzly with two young...right by the side of the road.I rode on.I stopped.With one hand I
pointed the camera behind and started snapping away, trying to get a good shot,
while covering the bikes controls ready for a speedy departure.A wonderful sight, and I am so grateful to
Canada for permitting me to experience that before I left its shores.

Then the ride pushed
downwards, through narrowing tree-lined valleys. Through the border once more into Alaska, and
then we were rolling left and right along a wonderful road which matched the
wide river bed´s track through the fiord-like mountains. I must confess I turned around and re-sampled
this 10 mile stretch a second (and third) time. It was a perfect day, no traffic, wonderful road and incredible
scenery. Even Idris´ dodgy front tyre
didn´t hold back the fun as we came again to the side of the eagle reserve
where, in autumn, thousands of these incredible creatures compete with the
bears in feeding on the last salmon runs of the year. Ah, I thought, that´s what a National Scenic
Highway is – and what an understatement!

And then it was
Haines and, as I rolled into town, I reflected on how good I felt. I noted I was sporting the widest of grins; a
smile that I probably couldn´t shake even if I tried (which I didn´t). My aches, pains, worries and woes had all
been blasted away on the Haines Highway.
It was probably one of the best roads I have ever ridden, certainly one
of the best riding experiences of my life.
It is hard to get across to non-bikers how something like this
feels. Petrol therapy – to the max!

Thought for the day

It was during the evening
that I stayed in the motel near the Alaskan / Canadian border that the news of
the multiple shooting at the Dark Knight film premier in Aurora, Montana, came
through. Some crazy had gone... just
that! And after stockpiling munitions
for months, had unleashed his anger on an unsuspecting movie crowd of young and
old alike. The young student couple who
were working at the motel for the summer were from Montana, and the horrific
events became the topic of discussion for the evening.

Not surprisingly the
subject came back around to rights verses regulation. I can see both sides, and I´ve noted our
friends in the US are generally more protective of their civil liberties than
people I have encountered in Europe. And
generally they don´t respond well to big government telling them what they can
and can´t do. That said, just because
you have the right to carry arms, does that mean that you should? Is it true that a vast majority of weapons
used in criminal activity in the USA are, in fact, stolen from legitimate gun
owners? If there were less legitimate
guns sitting around, would less people be able to use them for criminal purposes?

Also, I subscribe to
the view that government, and in many respects society in general, is there to
protect the weak. It is this capacity to
look after those who are less able clearly separates us from most other animals
(which, on the whole, tend to discard their weak). I am supporting UNICEF´s work because they do
just that – they protect and support kids around the world who are under
threat. Taking the point a step further,
if government/organised society is there to protect, then consequently laws and
cultural dictates should principally focus on protection of those who may be at
risk. If there is no risk to others,
then no law should be imposed – leaving instead personal choice. Violent aggression within society is considered
illegal. It is illegal to protect and
prevent violence against those less able to defend themselves. If, however, everyone is armed then you could
argue that everyone is able to defend themselves to a reasonable degree and,
therefore, societal interventions are unnecessary. Sounds a bit like the wild-west, doesn´t it?

The still hotly
contested question remains in the US about the balance between what you can do
and what you should. I pondered this
question as I rode the miles – and could only come to the conclusion that
greater regulation was necessary. More
detailed checks, linked databases, and waiting periods would not remove the
right to own guns (well, not for law abiding citizens), but it could only help
flag up when a possible nutter was stockpiling fully automatic munitions! Curious what you think about when you have
time with yourself.

About Me

A lover of travel and motorbikes, I am happiest when I can combine the two. Well, that's not quite true - I'm happiest when I'm in the arms of my fab wife, but bikes and travel come a close second. Now, all I need to do is convince the lovely wife to take up biking...